Why I Can't Move
by HaloFin17
Summary: An AU for the ending of the Civil War movie, in which things go a little differently inside the Siberian bunker. Not slash, but Steve and Bucky are inseparable to the end. And Tony is, well, Tony. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** An AU for the ending of the Civil War movie, in which things go a little differently inside the Siberian bunker. Not slash, but Steve and Bucky are inseparable to the end. And Tony is, well, Tony. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing in this vast Marvel universe.

 **Why I Can't Move**

"Stay down, Cap. Final warning."

And a familiar warning it was to Steve Rogers. Only now the "alley" was Siberia, and the "bully" was his one-time friend and teammate, a man whose life he had saved and who had saved his life on more than one occasion.

Aching miserably, Captain America couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a beating quite like this; all the same, he braced himself against the wall and managed to drag himself upright, back onto his feet. He raised his fists in self-defense because his trademark shield lay out of reach, behind his adversary.

"I can do this all day."

What he couldn't do was see Tony's expression behind the Iron Man mask, but Steve imagined the man's face must be riddled with rage and frustration right now. Everything the two of them had built together…how had it all come apart so quickly?

One major answer to that question was also located behind Stark. The Winter Soldier's left arm, the magnificent weapon that had defined his identity for the last seventy years, was simply gone, blown off at the shoulder by Tony himself. Although a mechanical limb, its amputation had clearly brought about the same reaction of shock that would have accompanied the loss of a flesh and blood arm.

Bucky remained conscious, lying on his back; but with his blue eyes glazed over and distant, he had lost all notion of what was happening around him. Or so Steve thought.

For when Tony stepped forward to resume the fight against Captain America, Barnes suddenly rolled over, ignoring the agony on his left side, and made a desperate grab for Stark's leg with his good hand. It was all he could do now to protect his one true friend, although he posed no more of a threat to Iron Man now than an annoying insect. And indeed, he was swatted away as such.

Tony turned and delivered a crushing kick to the side of the Soldier's face, stunning the dark-haired man for certain this time and forcing him once more onto his back. But Iron Man had turned away from the Captain, and realizing his mistake, he whirled around to find Rogers already in motion – reaching not for Stark himself, but for the abandoned shield, which would allow the fight to continue with even odds. But Tony would have no more of it.

 _Go for Rogers' legs,_ he had told the Spiderling before the battle, and it was high time he followed his own advice. Quickly rearranging the offensive systems inside his suit, Iron Man fired a weapon that he had developed only recently, and there was just one available to him now. It was a small type of grenade which latched onto its target, and rather than exploding, it emitted powerful, concussive shockwaves into a concentrated area.

The grenade stuck onto Rogers' left knee, and it detonated before Steve had any chance of prying it away. On a normal human being, the weapon would have pulverized every bone of the left leg into a fine powder; the serum-enforced bones of Captain America, however, merely broke under the strain. Nevertheless, those multiple injuries sent Steve crumpling to the ground with a cry of pain.

"I warned you, Captain." Stark sounded exasperated now, as though he simply wanted to be finished with this whole affair. "Even America's greatest hero can't fight on one leg. Now for the last time, _stand down_."

Steve just shook his head, still in too much shock to respond verbally; he couldn't move his left leg in the slightest, so truly he had no more chance of winning this fight. But from where he lay, he could now reach his shield. When that familiar weight was secured once more against his arm, he grit his teeth and crawled slowly, painfully, over toward his fallen friend – a true army crawl.

Bucky still wasn't completely unconscious, no doubt thanks to Hydra's version of the enhancing serum, but he had not moved since that last blow from Stark. Blood covered the left side of his face, and Steve wouldn't have been surprised if Barnes' cheek bone had been shattered by Tony's armored boot. He could feel his former teammate's presence looming nearby, but Rogers didn't stop moving until he lay on his stomach beside Bucky with the shield supported on his right arm, at an angle he hoped would protect them both if necessary.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you? No wonder all our enemies hated having to fight Captain America." Stark clenched his gauntleted fists, stepping closer, and his voice promised no quarter when he spoke next. "Move, Rogers. I'm going to kill him."

"I know." Steve stared up at that mask, wishing he could at least look into the eyes of the man he had once called friend. "That's why I can't move."

The rocket launcher on Iron Man's shoulder fired without warning, so that Rogers barely had time to raise his shield and deflect the blast into the concrete above them.

"My father made you that shield!" Tony was screaming now, finally giving voice to his sorrow and bloodlust, and Steve knew deep down that he had lost all chance of reasoning with this man. Tony could think of nothing but avenging his parents now, and Steve couldn't entirely blame him.

Stark raged on, "You would be nothing without Howard Stark, and you're using _his_ invention to defend his killer!"

"Tony, please listen to me!" Steve had to give it one last, desperate try. "The fight's over; you win."

"Then move!"

But Steve could not – not with his dearest friend lying helpless behind him, and especially not with Peggy Carter's advice to her niece ringing in his ears. _Even when the entire world is telling you to move, it is your duty to stand your ground, rooted like a tree, and tell the world, 'No –_ you _move.'_ He could see how this was going to end. He and Tony had both made their decisions, chosen their respective sides, and neither of them was going to move.

"Tony, don't do this – please. He's my friend."

"So was I."

Another round of small explosives shot toward them, and Rogers ducked under his shield, all the while ensuring that it also covered as much of Bucky's torso as possible. He could do nothing to defend their exposed legs, but Tony's rage had his firing concentrated on the hallmark of his father's creations. Steve angled the shield to deflect the steady stream of shots upward, knowing full well that it couldn't go on like this forever.

He didn't even notice the heavy dust in the air until Stark suddenly stopped firing. A handful of pebbles then struck him on the legs, and he could hear an ominous cracking sound overhead. In a heartbeat, Steve realized what was coming and haphazardly threw his upper body on top of Bucky's, bringing the shield up over both their heads just as the ceiling, along with all the earth and rock above it, came crashing down on top of them.

At long last, the echoing noises stopped, and a crushing weight settled over the two trapped super-soldiers. Steve could scarcely breathe under the immense pressure, and every breath he did manage to draw in was half-choked with smothering dust. He wanted to call out for help and let Stark know they were still alive…but in the end, he didn't bother. Tony had known about the impending collapse first, and done nothing to either help shelter his foes or move them out of harm's way; he would not be helping them now, after the fact. Sure enough, it wasn't long before there came the distinctly recognizable sound of Iron Man's booster rockets, rapidly fading away into the distance.

Stark had left them. He hadn't killed them with his own hands, but he had left them to die. And while Steve wasn't wholly surprised by the desertion, it hurt all the same. What could he have done to prevent it? Would he, Captain America, have truly killed Iron Man in order to change this outcome? Not long ago, Steve had decided that he would rather die than fight Bucky to the death. But would he have killed Tony Stark today in order to spare the Winter Soldier?

Barnes' breath ghosted over his friend's cheek, but it was faint at best.

"Buck?" Just that one syllable was a struggle to utter, but he tried again after receiving no response from the man underneath him. "Bucky?"

It was no use. They'd both be dead right now if not for their respective serums. He could no longer feel the lower half of his body, and only the shield above their heads, held up by the sheer strength of Steve's arms, allowed them to draw these shallow breaths. But even Captain America couldn't hold on like this indefinitely; and if he was indeed destined to die here, then he would at least like to talk to James Buchanan Barnes one last time – to tell him how utterly, wretchedly sorry he was that it all had to end this way. How sorry he was that after all the times Bucky had protected him, he had once again not been strong enough to save Bucky.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed. Despair whispered that he should simply give up, stop fighting the inevitable, and let the rubble bury them once and for all. But again, Steve could not let go of his resolve, despite knowing how hopeless their situation was. It was not in Captain America's nature to stop fighting for a cause he believed in, and what better cause was there than the life of his best friend?

"Captain Rogers? Captain Rogers, are you there?"

Steve's heart skipped a beat in both hope and dread. He knew that voice; it belonged to the new Wakandan King, whose latest mission in life was to hunt down and kill the very same man Captain America had sworn to protect. And so it was no great surprise that he had somehow tracked them here to Siberia. If the Black Panther could rescue them from being buried alive, Steve knew he had no hope of defeating such an elite warrior in this state. But perhaps, if they were lucky, T'Challa would at least grant them the mercy of a quick death.

"Captain Rogers, can you hear me?"

"Here," he managed once and then again, a little louder, "Here!"

"I heard the cave-in," T'Challa continued, sounding neither pleased nor discouraged by Steve's ongoing existence. "The debris nearly reaches up to where the ceiling was originally. There is machinery elsewhere in the bunker that I can use to help free you, but it will take time. You must hold on. Do you understand me?"

Rogers nodded unseen and huffed out a quick, "Yeah." Hopefully, one of those machines would be a bulldozer. He couldn't see Bucky's face in the blackness of their surroundings, but the minute rise and fall of the chest beneath him gave him hope and inspired a fresh bout of strength inside the Captain as he patiently awaited their rescue. _Stay with me, Buck._

Noises increased around them on all sides as the debris was slowly cleared away, but it was a long time before Steve began to notice any significant difference. Thankfully, the pressure started to be relieved at the same time his arms were screaming at him that they couldn't keep this up much longer. And then, finally, daylight broke through! As welcome as that sight was, Steve had to blink against the brightness of it at first. The instant he deemed it was safe (or at least, safe enough), he dropped the shield with a groan and simply lay there in the dust, too weak to drag himself out of the rubble. T'Challa did it for him, pulling with strong, gentle hands until at last the Captain was free.

Now safely removed from the cave-in, Steve closed his eyes for a moment and basked in the knowledge that he was not, in fact, going to die here today. Until he remembered the new danger.

"T'Challa, wait!" he gasped, forcing himself to sit up and see the Black Panther likewise drawing the Winter Soldier out of his temporary tomb. Shockingly, the vibranium claws were still retracted.

"It is all right, Captain," the young king announced with disarming tranquility; he did not pause in his work. "I know now that your friend here was in no way responsible for my father's death."

"You do?" Steve's mind was still too baffled to draw its own conclusions. "How?"

"I followed the Iron Man when he came to help you; none of you knew I was here. I had intended to kill Barnes, of course – until I overheard your conversation with a certain person. Now I know where the blame lies."

T'Challa inclined his head toward a location behind the Captain, at which point Rogers finally realized that there was a fourth individual in their midst – Zemo, with his hands bound tightly before him. Bile rose in Steve's throat at the sight of the man, but he swallowed it down and returned his attention to Bucky instead.

The Black Panther knelt beside his elusive prey, apparently checking his vital signs; and now that Rogers finally had a long, unobstructed look at the damage done to his friend, the grief and guilt of it overwhelmed him – a weight more crushing than all the stones in Siberia. Two days ago, in Bucharest, he had seen Bucky for the first time since their fight on the helicarrier, and the Winter Soldier had looked well. Not exactly happy, perhaps, but he had clearly taken steps to make a little life for himself there – as much of a "fresh start" as any wanted assassin could realistically hope for.

Then Steve had found him, just like he'd been hoping to do for so many months. And now, a mere two days later, Bucky would be beyond fortunate if he lived to see the following dawn. His eyes closed, Barnes hadn't moved a muscle since his extraction. Every inch of him was covered in dirt and blood, and fresh crimson still flowed from the wounds on his face; Steve didn't even consider that he himself probably looked much the same.

But what truly broke his heart was the arm. Springs and wires protruded from the amputation sight just below Bucky's shoulder, and it turned Steve's stomach more than any fleshly carnage he had seen in battle. Because that was _Bucky's arm_ , and as much as he might claim to hate it and all it stood for, it was still a part of him. A part he would surely miss, and a part Steve now expected to see when he looked at his friend. Although intended for evil, it could have been used for good with equal efficiency. Bucky had proven as much in his recent efforts on Steve's behalf; but in just two days, those efforts had already cost him his defining feature, the hated yet faithful limb that gave him an advantage in every fight. And now gone.

Steve hung his head, with a lump in his throat and an aching heart to add to the list of his other obvious injuries. _I should have left him in Bucharest; should have left him in peace._ But, no – that wouldn't have solved anything, apart from possibly easing the Captain's anguished conscience. The United Nations troopers would simply have taken Bucky themselves, very possibly killing him in the process. And that was all because of the man sitting bound behind him.

"Why him?" His voice hoarse, Steve turned his wrathful eyes upon Zemo, who stiffened at the sudden confrontation. "The Winter Soldier had nothing to do with what happened in Sokovia, so why the hell did you drag him into all of this?"

After a deliberate pause, Zemo spoke, a little too calmly, "It was never anything personal against your friend, Captain Rogers. For the last seventy years, he has been nothing more than a means to an end in the schemes of greater men than himself; and so I did the same. He was merely the tool that I used to bring a grander plan into being."

The indifference of that answer lit a new fire inside Steve's chest, and had he been capable of walking, his hands probably would have been around Zemo's throat by now. But as it was, he could barely move at all.

"Captain." That was T'Challa's voice again, acting like an anchor in the tempest of his emotions. "You cannot change what has been done. Please, do not give in to hate or your need for revenge; those are the things that have brought us here. But I promise you that man's deeds will not go unpunished; I will see to it personally."

He was right, of course, and so Captain America let the tension drain out of him with a long sigh.

"Steve?"

The voice was weak, terribly so; and had it been anyone else who'd spoken, Rogers likely would not have heard them.

"Bucky!" On instinct he tried to rise to his feet and go to his friend – only to be stopped by the harsh reminder that at least one of his legs was totally nonfunctional. "Bucky…"

T'Challa rose from his place of reflection beside the fallen Soldier and moved toward Steve instead. "Allow me, Captain." But when it was soon determined that he could not walk even with assistance, the Black Panther again gently pulled him the short distance over to Bucky's side.

"Buck?" Steve cradled the man's ruined face in his hands as gingerly as possible, and hazy blue eyes fluttered open at his touch.

"You okay?"

Steve almost laughed at that, and he was distinctly aware of fresh tears prickling in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. Well, not exactly fine, I guess, but neither are you. We both took a pretty bad beating here today."

Barnes' eyes suddenly grew more lucid. "Stark?"

"Gone," Rogers answered at once, feeling some of Bucky's stress melt away under his fingers. "He brought part of the bunker down on top of us and then left. He probably thinks we're dead."

Bucky grew quiet again and closed his eyes, absorbing that knowledge as well as his pain-addled brain would allow. Steve thought he had passed out again, but then Bucky murmured, with eyes still closed, "So what now?"

What, indeed. What was to become of all of them? Not just the two super-soldiers, but also Clint, Sam, Wanda, and everyone else who had rendered them assistance in one way or another. Even the Black Panther was implicated in their "crimes" now.

"I don't know, Buck," he admitted, feeling close to thoroughly defeated for the first time in his life. "I just don't know."

"With your permission," T'Challa suddenly spoke up, "I will take the two of you back to Wakanda with me. You are both gravely wounded and in need of expert care, which I can provide for you in my homeland."

"Thank you." The Captain's sincere gratitude was mingled with confusion, and it must have shown on his face.

"Your friend and my father were both victims in all of this," the young monarch explained succinctly. "I could do nothing to save one of them, but if I can help the other in any way, I swear it will be done. And I know where they are keeping your other allies imprisoned; when you are both healed, we will discuss how best to recover them. Perhaps it will afford us an opportunity to let Mr. Stark know that you are alive and well after all."

Steve humbly bowed his head in further acknowledgement of the unexpected kindness, but he was far too exhausted now to think of anything else to say. And too grieved, to learn that the rest of his comrades had truly been locked up as criminals in exchange for their loyalty to him. Looking down again at his brother-in-arms, he couldn't tell if Barnes was still conscious or not; it didn't matter in light of what needed to happen next. He tightly gripped the dark, disheveled hair in one hand, bent low over his friend's head, and whispered:

"I'm so sorry, Bucky."

 **Author's End Note:** And unless I'm struck by a serious bolt of inspiration, I expect this will remain a oneshot. I am unashamedly on Steve's "side" (because that's Bucky's side), but I had to make theirs the "losing" side in order to explore the desired emotions in this fic. Frankly, I had expected the casualties in "Civil War" to be a lot more drastic, and I'm strangely disappointed that we all aren't mourning the loss of a main Marvel character right now. Except Bucky's arm. That's almost as bad as losing a major character in my mind. Looking forward, I suppose the best scenario I can hope for is that the Avengers will need all the help they can get in "Infinity Wars," in which case they'll thaw Bucky out again and give him a new badass arm – courtesy of either T'Challa or Tony, if the latter has a radical change of heart. Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** An AU for the ending of the Civil War movie, in which things go a little differently inside the Siberian bunker. Not slash, but Steve and Bucky are inseparable to the end. And Tony is, well, Tony. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer:** I own nothing in this vast Marvel universe.

 **Author's Note:** My thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the first chapter of this story, and special thanks to **WeirdRaptor** for encouraging me to pursue a second chapter exploring Tony's side of things. Hope you enjoy!

 **Why I Can't Move: Part 2**

 _Damn you, Rogers! Why couldn't you just move out of the_ freaking _way?_

Two months had passed, and Tony Stark could not stop reliving the events of Siberia.

He was used to the flashbacks of bad things happening to himself, used to the nightmares of bad things happening to his friends, and now even used to the guilt of causing bad things to happen to innocent people. But guilty flashbacks of he himself killing innocent people who also happened to be his friends? That was a new one, even for Iron Man.

Even so, only one of those people had been his friend – and only one had been innocent. An argument could be made that Rogers was "guilty by association," as the saying goes…but it still didn't excuse Tony's actions.

When the United Nations task force had demanded a status report on the twin renegades Barnes and Rogers, Tony had answered truthfully – for the most part. He had confessed to following the pair to Siberia, but claimed that it had been his intention to confront and corral them privately, far removed from any chance of civilian casualties. And without revealing any personal details, he had made it clear that neither of the fugitives had left that God-forsaken bunker.

He had tried once again to make a case against that slimy Zemo character, but much like Secretary Ross, the rest of the U.N. wasn't interested in his theories. They only wanted to know that the Winter Soldier was dead and that Steve Rogers would no longer interfere with their affairs. If it had indeed been Zemo's goal to derail the Avengers, he had done an outstanding job!

T'Challa, the mysterious Black Panther of Wakanda, had also been present at the debriefing; it made sense, considering his political and emotional investment in the matter. Even upon hearing the report that Barnes was dead, the young king had appeared as stoically imperturbable as ever. Maybe he was just jealous that Tony had robbed him of the opportunity to exact vengeance himself against the Winter Soldier. But when Stark had approached him to haltingly broach that very subject, T'Challa had simply dropped his eyes and moved away without a word.

Ice cubes clinked together in a whiskey glass that had just been refilled for the fourth time, and Tony knew he wouldn't be getting much sleep that evening. After all, why should tonight be different than any other night of the past two months? If not visions of Rogers' desperately pleading face, it was compulsive worry for Rhodey that kept Stark awake night after night.

Although his friend's condition was more promising now than had originally been projected, progress remained slow, and every pained grimace on Rhodey's face as he went through rehab stuck inside Tony's chest like another piece of shrapnel. At times like that, when Rhodey's suffering was most evident, Tony could almost silence his guilt about burying Captain America alive and leaving him for dead.

Apart from Rhodey, Vision was the only other "Avenger" Stark had seen since that fateful day in the bunker. Thor and Banner were both still MIA, Natasha had cleverly disappeared several weeks ago, and everyone else was secured aboard the nautical Raft Prison. Tony still wasn't sure how many of them knew what had become of their brave, foolhardy, stupidly stubborn Captain. He sure as hell wasn't about to tell them himself.

 _He might still be alive. After all, if anyone could have survived that, it's him._

Such whispers of doubt tormented Iron Man in more ways than one. For even if Steve had survived the cave-in, he was still injured and could not possibly have escaped the wreckage afterward. Not without help, which Tony had flat-out refused to give. Part of him had honestly been shocked by that sudden, unexpected turn of events, and his flight had almost been a retreat of panic. But after the panic had subsided, and the enormity of what had just happened hit him, he still didn't go back. Not even to recover the bodies, so that Captain America could be given the honor and recognition that millions of people believed he deserved.

But what if he had survived the initial impact of the ceiling's collapse? How long could super-soldiers go without food or water? Much longer than normal human beings, that was certain. Whatever solace Tony's conscience took in the knowledge that he hadn't technically dealt the killing blow himself was soon erased by the thought of Steve slowly starving to death underneath a building's worth of rubble. Or he might have suffocated, the air squeezed out of his lungs by an impossible weight.

 _Shit._ In that case, it would have been better for everyone if Iron Man could have simply blown them to pieces in a single, spectacular moment. Not to mention that the prospect of Rogers possibly returning someday was equally troubling and exhilarating. Of course, Stark would be thrilled on one hand to know that he hadn't killed Steve after all; but on the other hand, there was no way the next encounter between Iron Man and Captain America could be a pleasant one. Steve had never been a particularly spiteful or vindictive person, but Tony suspected that all prior rules regarding Steven Rogers had to be thrown out the window where a certain individual was concerned.

By now the billionaire's ruminations had led him down to his deepest, most secret of laboratories. This was where he kept it hidden away from all other prying eyes – his trophy. Stark might have preferred the shield of his father's invention instead, but this odd souvenir would suffice. He had it spread out on a table, initially for research, but now it lay there like an exhibit at the Museum of Science and Industry. How much time had he spent down here over the past two months, staring at it?

No part of that hallmark red star was visible on the portion he had recovered, yet it could not possibly be mistaken for anything else. Even without dissecting it, Tony knew this artificial limb was a true technological masterpiece. The five matching indentations surrounding the arc reactor on his last suit could testify to that. He never would have thought that one mechanical hand could pose such a threat to his own armor, but that moment inside the bunker had been entirely too close for comfort. A few seconds longer, and the Winter Soldier might very well have done away with Iron Man once and for all. Tony had since resolved that he would never again use the expression, "You're tearing my heart out!"

In another reality, he would have relished the opportunity to reverse-engineer such a mechanical marvel; he might have even enjoyed the challenge of constructing a worthy replacement, had the Winter Soldier lost his arm under radically different circumstances. But no. Tony hadn't destroyed it, experimented on it, or even bothered to clean it up. He just stood and stared at the arm that had killed his father.

He could admit that what happened to Steve was unfortunate, but Rogers had thrown his lot in with the monster who murdered Howard and Maria Stark in cold blood. Not even Captain America could be excused for that, and no true friend would defend the killer of another friend's parents! Tony would never regret this; it was, after all, his just recompense. If anyone deserved to claim this prize, it was _him_.

He had fed himself that same argument at least twice a day, every day, for the past two months.

In reluctant hindsight, he could now see the difference. The difference between the cold, soulless eyes of the assassin in the video and the lost, almost frightened stare of the man standing directly in front of him. A man terrified of his own past and his own mind.

Barnes might have escaped Iron Man's wrath (temporarily) if he hadn't been so obviously torn between fleeing for his own life and staying to defend Steve's; he hadn't even fought against Tony in earnest fury until Steve had shown signs of struggle and injury. Stark should've known Rogers would choose Barnes over him, once the battle had started. Apparently, saving the world together a few times didn't constitute as strong a friendship as your brainwashed childhood protector coming back from the dead with a mission to kill you.

But the honest truth, even if he couldn't admit to himself, was that Tony was tired. Tired of justifying his actions to the very people he was trying to help, tired of trying to make them understand his decisions, and so damn tired of wondering if maybe he'd reacted too harshly after seeing that video.

And so he stayed awake all night long, with a bottle of Scotch and the physical "Fist of Hydra" for company.

Early the next morning, just as he contemplated trying to catch a few hours of shuteye, FRIDAY interrupted him in her ever-polite manner. "Pardon me, Boss, but you have a high-priority call coming in from Secretary Ross. Apparently, there's been an incident at the Raft Prison."

Tony felt his heart rate kick up to another gear, despite his fatigue. Still, he couldn't resist greeting, "Thank you for calling Stark Industries. Your call is very important to us. Please hold and your call will be answered in the order in which it was received." And then he hit the "Hold" button, watching with no small degree of satisfaction while it blinked red for a minute or two. Certainly he wasn't using this as an excuse to delay the hearing of unwelcome news. Would Iron Man do a thing like that?

"Thank you _ever_ so much for your patience, Mr. Secretary," he answered at last. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Clearly, Ross was in no mood to play along. "I'll only say this once, Stark, but don't you ever put me on hold like that again! Do you know how much my time is worth? And thanks to your former colleagues, my patience is basically nonexistent now."

"Oh really?" Tony quipped. "I thought a heart attack had given you a new 'perspective' on life."

"Let's just get down to business," the older man insisted without taking the bait. "Last night there was a breach at the Raft Prison, and all of the one-time Avengers incarcerated there have now been liberated."

Stark had to battle a slight tremor in his voice when he asked, "Any idea who's responsible?"

"Oh, it's no mystery who's 'responsible' for it," snipped Ross. "The security cameras were all disabled, but not before he gave them one long, very deliberate look at his face. It was Rogers, Stark. Rogers again! I thought you said he was dead."

"No, I only said it was highly, highly unlikely that we would ever hear from him again." Tony's mouth was suddenly very dry. _Steve was alive! He had survived, after all!_ "Did he say anything or leave any sort of message?"

"You mean apart from the fact that he infiltrated and sabotaged a high-security penitentiary facility? No."

It didn't matter. Rogers might not be the type of guy who would call Tony out publicly for burying and then abandoning him, but he obviously wanted Iron Man (along with the rest of the world) to know that Captain America was still alive and kicking. But if Steve had survived, then…

"Ross, was Rogers alone on the footage? Is there evidence that he had any kind of extra help last night?"

The Secretary of State saw right through to the heart of his question. "If you're asking about Barnes, the answer is that we have no idea. In fact, since you were the last known person to interact with Barnes, we were hoping you might be able to shed some more light on this mystery."

Tony rolled his eyes unseen. Of course, now it was all _his_ fault again!

"Mr. Stark," Ross persisted, "if the Winter Soldier is still alive, we must know about it. That man is too great a threat to the free world for there to be any uncertainty about his fate. So I'll ask again: what more can you tell us about that day in Siberia?"

Iron Man drummed his fingers against the tabletop and selected his words with care. "Yesterday I would have said they were both dead; they were each in the same hopeless situation last I saw them. But since Rogers clearly survived, we have to assume there's a very strong chance that Barnes did as well."

Because something told him that those two super-soldiers would be inseparable moving forward, either in life or in death. But if Bucky Barnes was dead, then Captain America would surely give the word "Avenger" a whole new level of meaning. And when considered in the light of his own personal safety, that thought was almost enough to make Tony wish the Winter Soldier was still alive.

Almost.


End file.
